Another Point of View
by enmason
Summary: Half omniscient narration, half Rose's personal diary, the story of how Rose works through her social anxiety, depression, and self-degradation by understanding the value of life from a different perspective: as Scorpius Malfoy opens up to her about things he's also hidden from the rest of the world, Rose starts to realize that maybe it's possible to be loved by someone else.
1. Chapter 1: Rose's Diary

**Disclaimer: All characters, settings, and other copyrighted material belongs to J.K. Rowling and affiliates. Nothing belongs to me, with the sole exception of the story I've created using this copyrighted material.

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I began writing this because I was told by my muggle psychiatrist that it would help sort through all of the problems in my head. Also, because, as I was told by the same muggle psychiatrist, it would help me with my verbal expression and social anxiety. I don't know how much I care about all of that. The only thing that really made me feel like writing on this frighteningly blank journal is that I would feel less lonely if I could talk to someone who really listens to me. And, as the muggle psychiatrist insists, what better listener than a blank page, right?

I've been using another journal to keep track of my medications. I don't have many, but I keep forgetting to take each one at the right time, so my mum made me start a log. That's the difference between the two of us, which I guess comes from the Weasley side of me… while mum and I might be similar in terms of bookishness and intelligence, my organization and attention to detail veer towards my dad. Basically, I can't keep track of much of anything, and I'm surprised that my grades at Hogwarts haven't gone to absolute shit because of it. Maybe I'm even smarter than mum. (Who am I kidding).

I'll skip past the boring bits, like my family history, or what I had to eat today, because those really aren't a part of the bigger picture. The bigger picture is, that, about six months ago, right after returning to school from the winter holidays, I was sent to the hospital wing, almost stark naked, with a bloody fistful of glass. I had smashed the mirror in my dormitory after taking a bath because, well, who likes their own body these days, or at least that's the explanation I gave Madam Baruch. She had sent an owl to my parents requesting that I be given a bit of time off school, and my muggle-born mum came running with, what do you know, a muggle psychiatrist. The muggle psychiatrist determined that I had social anxiety, clinical depression, self-harm tendencies, the list of diagnoses went on and on. Ultimately, my mum took me out of school for the rest of the term, I finished all of my classes via owl, and I haven't had one single letter from a friend asking whether I'm all right.

Ah, and there we run into the true issue. I haven't had one single letter from a friend asking whether I'm all right, or why I was out, or whether I would be returning to school. I guess maybe that's the start of the problem, and I would go into it more, but my hand is getting kind of sore, and since I never learned to hold my quill properly, and I don't really feel like making my writer's bump hurt any worse, I'll end it here for now. Huck just came in through the window, and it looks like a letter might actually be tied to his claw. Let's hope for the best.


	2. Chapter 2: The Letter

**Disclaimer: All characters, settings, and other copyrighted material belongs to J.K. Rowling and affiliates. Nothing belongs to me, with the sole exception of the story I've created using this copyrighted material.

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Rose closed the journal, setting it carefully next to the medication log and diary on the table next to her bed, and reached into the bag of owl treats in the other corner of the room for something to give to her owl, Huckleberry. She tossed the treat into his beak, pulled the string loose from his leg, and carefully slid the small white envelope away from his talon. Satisfied, Huck ruffled his feathers and hopped toward the other end of the room, where his cage was. He settled in with a delighted chirp, nestling his beak into the crook of his wing, and within a minute or two began to snore quietly.

Rose smiled, her eyes wandering irresistibly back to the envelope. It felt a bit lumpy, and she shot another smile towards Huck, the clumsy little bird. She flipped it over, her small smile quickly twisting into a frown. She should have realized as soon as she saw the shape and color of the envelope what its contents would be. Her finger moved softly over the green ink, and with a sigh she put the envelope on her bedside table. It was the Hogwarts supply list. Usually, Rose would be excited to receive this letter, because receiving it meant that school would be starting again soon. But she had gotten her hopes up for a different kind of letter, a kind of letter that would show her that she mattered to any of her classmates or friends or distant relatives.

Nobody outside of Rose's immediate family had been told the exact details of her situation, except that she had been going through a hard time, which was why she thought at least one of her many relatives, or even fellow students at Hogwarts, might ask about it. The months of silence made it hard to convince herself that anyone really cared.

At least summer was close to ending. Once school started again, Rose wouldn't have to deal with the loneliness of a school holiday spent without any friends. She turned to her bedside table, picking up the letter and looking at it a bit more closely. In addition to the wrinkles, she noticed that it felt heavier than a letter should, and her fingers brushed over something small and hard at the bottom of the envelope. After turning it over, she carefully broke the seal and pulled out the supply list. She reached her fingers inside the envelope again, but something sharp and small pricked her skin. She pulled her hand out quickly, sucked on her bleeding finger, and after a moment or two, turned the envelope upside-down, shaking the object onto the bedside table.

A small badge glinted in the dim light of her lamp, but it was turned the wrong way. She peered closer, and with dismay read the words "Head Girl" scrawled across the front. She blinked. It must be some sort of mistake. She couldn't be Head Girl; she hadn't even been in school for half of the year, and she definitely hadn't been present to fulfill her Prefect duties. Surely the badge had somehow found its way into her envelope by some error, surely her envelope had been switched with that of someone more accountable in her year. She grabbed the journal off of the bedside table, tore out a page, and walked over to her desk to search for a quill. The time it took to dip the quill in a nearby inkpot gave her a moment to think of what she might say.

"Dear Headmistress McGonagall—" she began.

"Dear Headmistress McGonagall, I am writing to inform you that there may have been a mistake regarding your allocation of—"

"Oh, fuck," she whispered angrily. Rose crumpled the page into a ball, stalked across the room, and tore another page from the journal She took the paper with her to the desk and slammed it on the hardwood surface. She dipped the quill again in the pot of ink, some of it dripping on the corner of the page, and began to write another note.

Dear Headmistress McGonagall, I found a Head Girl Badge in the envelope with my supply list letter. I've included it with this note, as we both know that this position is not the best fit for me and would be better handled by another, in fact any other, student in my House and year. If this is not a mistake, thank you for your generosity, and if it is a mistake, I apologise for not having returned it sooner. Regards, Rose Weasley.

"Good enough," Rose mumbled, opening a drawer and thumbing through its contents for an envelope. "I just have to get this out of here before mum or dad or Merlin _forbid_ Hugo sees it."

As if on cue, a quick rap at the door made Rose jump away from the desk, letter still in hand, Head Girl badge still on the table beside her bed. She made a lunge for the desk, caught her toe on the throw rug on her floor, and toppled to the floor. The door swung open, and Hugo rushed inside her room.

"Rose, you okay? Rose? What happened?" Hugo's voice cracked in worry.

He reached down to help her up. "How did you fall?" Hugo glanced down at the letter in her hand. "You've already gotten your supply list? Mine hasn't come yet."

His eyes traveled along her outstretched hand, and his head cocked to the side, his frown transitioning from concern to curiosity as he saw the shining pin on the bedside table.

"So this is why you fell just now? Why? Did you not want to show me? What is this? Rose? Is this what I think it is?" His questions all came in a rush, jumbled together, and it was hard for Rose to separate one from the other.

"Oh, no, Merlin, no, please Hugo, just calm down for a moment," she sighed. "It's not that, really."

Hugo let go of her arm, rushed over to the table, and picked up the pin.

"Head Girl," he read. "Head Girl, Rose? Are you serious?! Head girl? Rose, this is amazing!"

Rose scrambled up from the floor, reaching desperately for the pin.

"Hugo!" she hissed. "Hugo, give that back to me! It was a mistake! Hugo, whatever you do, don't let mum and dad see!"

Hugo held the pin above his head, eyebrows scrunching together in confusion. "Rose, I doubt this was a mistake. Head Girl, Rose, they don't just give this pin to anyone!"

She lunged for it, her fingers missing the pin by inches. Hugo had gotten taller in recent years, and his long arms stretched much higher than hers. As she continued desperately to retrieve her pin, Hugo's expression became thoughtful.

"You know," he said, arms still deftly avoiding Rose's reach, "I could keep it from our parents, if you were to do something in return for me."

Rose dropped her hands, ran towards the doorway, slammed the door shut, and blocked it pathetically with her small body. Out of breath from the futile attempt to retrieve the pin, her breath came in and out in deep gulps.

"Wh-what?" she heaved. "What d-do I have to do?"

Hugo scratched under his eye with his free hand, the other hand still raised, holding the pin above his head.

"Well, it's not exactly _what_ you have to do, dear Rose," he grinned. "I was thinking more along the lines of, if I do you the favor of _not_ telling our parents about this, even though they're bound to find eventually—"

"It was a mistake," Rose cut in curtly, breath fully regained.

He rolled eyes. "Well, either way. I won't tell them about any of this, if you promise to eventually call in a favor in return, whatever it may be, whenever I want you to."

Rose grimaced. "Fine," she muttered through grit teeth. "Whatever you want. Just give me back the pin, and _whatever you do, do not say anything to mum or dad_."

She stretched out her hand, back still flat against the door.

"Right, here you are," he said, dropping the pin lightly into her hand. "Just make sure you follow through with your promise, or word might find its way back to not just our parents, but everyone in the family, as well, before school starts and you can escape everyone to Hogwarts. And you don't want that happening."

"I get it," Rose said. She swiveled away from the door. "Now leave."

"Gladly," he replied, grin widening. "I look forward to calling in that favor."


	3. Chapter 3: Rose's Diary

**Disclaimer: All characters, settings, and other copyrighted material belongs to J.K. Rowling and affiliates. Nothing belongs to me, with the sole exception of the story I've created using this copyrighted material.

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Why do I care whether my parents find out about the fact that I very mistakenly received the Head Girl badge along with my supply list for seventh year? There are several reasons.

Ever since I was young, I was always held to very high standards. Because I was smarter than average as a child, I was constantly put through advanced programs for gifted young minds in the very best muggle schools in our area. The only gifts I would receive on birthdays or holidays were books or special programs to develop my intellectual abilities. With the added responsibility of living up to the Weasley name, rather than being proud of any of my achievements, I would always focus on what it was that I had done wrong, or what I could do to help improve myself further.

Theoretically, all of these experiences might lead to someone who is constantly working hard, or perhaps to someone who is constantly trying to prove to others that she can meet the standards that are set for her. I should be either highly successful and admired or so obsessed with my own achievements that I can't help but share it with others. A know-it-all?

Instead, it's made me someone who never thinks that any of her achievements are good enough. Someone who always has to show some perfectly-created mask to the outside, but who never has the self-confidence to be proud of who she really is. I no longer feel like an independent person with my own emotions and thoughts. I've become the person my parents want me to be, the person I'm supposed to be, on the outside, and someone who absolutely has no right to be herself on the inside. So while I'm trying to impress everyone with someone who isn't really me, I've lost any sense of pride in my own work, and I've also lost the capability to really be myself around others.

I have no personality other than the "perfect" mask that my lack of self-confidence in my "real" personality has forced me to make. I don't deserve the Head Girl badge because it was awarded to the person that everyone thinks I am, and not to the real Rose Weasley. And all of that just makes me feel even worse about who I am on the inside.

And if my parents find out about the fact that Rose Weasley, who is not the real me, has received the Head Girl badge, it will just become another title for me to live up to. If I'm working on living up to that title, I'm afraid that something like what happened last year will happen all over again.

The worst part about being someone whose personality lives inside of a shell is that nobody really gets to know me. Not even my family knows about my real personality, or all of the emotional issues that I've been facing. I've shared none of this with my muggle psychiatrist, whom I've trusted the least of everyone. I have no friends who truly care about me, and I end up feeling absolutely and utterly alone.

I can't tell anyone about any of this, either, because that would go against the perfect shell that I've created for myself. Even after all that's happened, it's impossible for me to open up, because opening up would mean showing people that I'm not the perfect Rose Weasley that they think I am.


End file.
